d. "I'm running this team. I'm
going to pitch, and if you don't like it, you can quit." He walked over
to the position, leaving a dazed and resentful first baseman behind him.

That evening, John returned from the paper route to eat supper
listlessly and skip up to Silvey's as soon as he had finished. The team,
his team which he had built up with such care last year, was going to
the dogs, and he craved sympathy from Bill about it.

"He's crazy," his chum sighed when John's outburst had slackened. "You
should a' seen him when you'd gone for the papers, today. First he threw
over my head, and then to one side, 'most out of my reach. He hit the
ground twice before he could throw a fast one over the plate, and
Francis laughed at him. 'Well,' says Sid, 'I guess I can learn before
Saturday. I've got a book at home that tells all about it.'"

"Maybe--" said John, thoughtfully.

"Maybe what?"

"Maybe the 'Jeffersons' 'll make so many runs in the first inning that
he'll have to quit. Then Francis can play, and perhaps we can catch up
with them."

"But he won't let Francis learn my signals," Silvey complained. "Says
he's captain and we've got to do just what he says."

"Get Francis to come down to your yard tomorrow noon," John counseled,
as he stood up and stretched himself. "Teach him then."

Thus it came about that, unknown to Sid, two small figures rehearsed for
a good hour, such intricacies as "Two fingers against the glove means a
swift one," "when I pound like this, it means an 'out,'" and "this means
an 'in'" until Francis became letter-perfect in them.

That Friday afternoon, the "Tigers" gathered for the final practice
before the first and most important game of the season. Silvey knocked
grounders innumerable to the different members of the infield who
handled them with uncanny dexterity, or sent long flies out to the
waiting players until he grew tired and Sid supplanted him. Red Brown
and one or two of the fleeter spirits of the team raced from base to
base, practicing a little trick of sliding which Red had noticed at a
park baseball game, and Sid took his position as pitcher for a few
minutes' erratic practice with Silvey. John left them for the night,
wavering between confidence and despair as to the result of the morrow.
Everything had gone marvelously well with the exception of Sid.

"If he quits early," Silvey consoled him as they sat on the Fletcher
front steps just before bed time, "we'll win afte